


now i’ve got you in my space

by gingermaggie



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ark AU, Multi, SO MUCH FLUFF, The Ark Stays in Space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 13:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingermaggie/pseuds/gingermaggie
Summary: Ark AU. Clarke Griffin is the best wingman ever, okay? Wells is crushing hard on the youngest zero-G mechanic on the Ark in 52 years, and Clarke’s parents have basically adopted her. Clarke will get Wells to speak to her in full sentences if it kills her. Monty is half in love with the Shakespeare-spewing Guard cadet who tried to steal his moonshine and who happens to be Clarke’s next door neighbor. Clarke’s gonna make that happen. If Raven and Miller both happen to be connected to infuriating, infuriatingly attractive Bellamy Blake, well…Obviously that has nothing to do with Clarke’s motivation. She’s just a really good friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly mad credit to [jennycaakes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes) ([madgesundersee](http://madgesundersee.tumblr.com) on tumblr) for getting me to ship minty at some nebulous point in the past I don’t remember and for getting me 100% on the wellven train with [her comment about Wells “networking and falling in love” with Raven on the Ark](http://madgesundersee.tumblr.com/post/142767613934). You’re the real mvp, and tbh I didn’t give that sentiment as much justice as I intended. 
> 
> Anyway in this fantasy of fluff I’ve created it sure seems like the Ark has no oxygen problems, the leadership got their shit together and every crime doesn’t get you imprisoned or floated, and most of the important delinquents are either more ethically competent than they are in canon or at least a little better at not getting caught and thus are not in lockup and don’t even have records. Also, second children are discouraged but not technically illegal, and this will be explored somewhat further within the story. This is seriously just SO MUCH fluff. 
> 
> But yeah, I love me a good Ark AU, and there simply aren’t enough of them, so I decided I had to help. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Title from Latch by Natalie Taylor

“This is a bad idea, Clarke,” Monty hisses.  
  
Clarke’s eyebrows pull low over her eyes, fixed on a pair of uniformed figures standing by a door down the corridor. One of them says something to the other with a sarcastic grin, and the second guy rolls his eyes.  
  
“This is the best idea ever,” she says.  
  
“Clarke—” Monty tries again.  
  
“Let’s go,” she interrupts, striding purposefully down the hall.  
  
Monty has no choice but to follow.  
  
As they approach the guards, Clarke turns to Monty and speaks as if she’s continuing an ongoing conversation. “I’m sorry, Monty, but I’m an artist and a doctor’s apprentice. Literature is not my strong suit. I’d be happy to tutor you in math—”  
  
“Hey, I’m great at math,” Monty interjects, in equal parts to defend his honor and because it was in the script Clarke forced him to memorize. (Monty has to admit, the girl never does anything half-assed.)  
  
“I know, I know. But we’re both shit at Shakespeare, which is just as well, because Shakespeare is shit.” She glances over at the wall and lets out a laugh that’s almost passably genuine. Almost. “Whoops, better be careful who I say that in front of—hey, Nathan.”  
  
To Monty’s ears, the whole scenario probably couldn’t have sounded faker if Clarke had looked the boy in the eye and said, “Hey, I’m going to try to get you to tutor my friend Monty because he has a crush on you.”  
  
Nathan Miller, for his part, just raises his eyebrows at his neighbor. “Hi, Clarke. Are you hoping to antagonize me into using a shock baton against you? I like Shakespeare, but probably not that much.”  
  
“Damn,” Clarke shakes her head. “Way to shatter every one of my dreams.”  
  
The other guard snorts. “Yeah, princess, I’m sure your dreams are thwarted on a regular basis.”  
  
It’s the kind of comment that usually lights Clarke’s rage faster than you can say “class tensions.” Monty actually cringes a little when it hits his ears, glancing at Clarke half expecting to physically see her hackles hit the ceiling.  
  
She just smirks. “Don’t I know it, Guardsman Blake,” she says, sugar-sweet.  
  
A briefly genuine smile flashes across the guard’s face, and Monty is extraordinarily confused.  
  
“What about you?” Clarke presses. “Got any strong feelings about Shakespeare?”  
  
Guardsman Blake launches into some tirade about the historical implications of Shakespeare’s life and legacy, and Monty is equally impressed by how many itemized points the guy already has prepared and how quickly his own brain moves to tune him out.  
  
Miller looks at Monty with a quirk of his eyebrows like, can you believe these guys?, and Monty can hardly catch his breath. He thinks maybe Clarke was onto something.  
  
“Um,” Miller says after a moment, as Blake continues to drone on beside him. “If you actually need help with Shakespeare stuff…Clarke’s a dick, but I do have some experience with the material. If you wanted me to help.”  
  
Holy shit. Clarke was actually onto something.  
  
Monty smiles. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, that’d be cool.”  
  
Miller smiles too, just a little, and just for a second. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. I don’t have a shift. Maybe we can meet at the Alpha library around eleven?”  
  
Clarke is still engrossed in her conversation with Blake, voice rising a pitch or two, when Monty shoots a glance at her. He feels like someone should be a witness to this. “Yeah,” he says again. “Sounds great. I’ll be the one staring at Hamlet like this.” He pulls an expression of exaggerated confusion, and immediately blushes when he realizes it almost sounds like he’s flirting.  
  
Like, he is. But still. He didn’t mean to sound like it.  
  
“Cool,” Miller says, and that’s that.  
  
Clarke and Blake finally realize that Monty and Miller’s conversation has petered out, and Blake at least has the grace to look slightly embarrassed about his rant. Or maybe about Clarke’s equally impassioned rebuttal.  
  
“I guess we should let you guys get back to work,” Clarke says. “Bye, Nathan.”  
  
“Later,” Miller says, and apparently only Monty sees how Guardsman Blake appears to choke on his tongue trying to think of something to say before giving up and watching Clarke retreat in silence.  
  
“It worked,” Monty says when they’re out of earshot, shaking his head. “How the fuck did that work?”  
  
Clarke beams, smug as anything. “I’m a genius,” she says, “and also the best wingwoman ever.”  
  
“Distracting the other guard was a solid move,” Monty adds. “I hadn’t thought about that being an issue before. Had you?”  
  
Clarke shrugs delicately. “I knew Bel—Guardsman Blake would be with him, I’ve passed them on this shift before. But I figured it wouldn’t be a big deal.”  
  
Monty smirks. “How do you know him, again?”  
  
She’s definitely deliberately misunderstanding him when she says, “Duh, he’s lived next door to me my whole life. We had a shared childhood of privilege and stifling parental expectation. We’ve discussed this at length.”  
  
“Not Miller. Blake.” Monty very much Is Not laughing at her. Out loud, at least.  
  
Clarke is super casual about the whole thing. “He used to be stationed in Medical while I was on shift sometimes. He’s a total ass, he’ll argue anything just for the sake of arguing. Totally unprofessional on duty, I might add. I figured it would be easy to distract him with a petty debate long enough for you to connect with Nathan.”  
  
“Mhm,” Monty says. “I’m sure arguing with him is a real trial for you. I know how much you hate bickering over nothing for fun.”  
  
“Shut up.” She bumps her shoulder into his.  
  
“He’s pretty cute, too,” Monty offers, testing the waters.  
  
Clarke scoffs. “Not cute enough to compensate for being an asshole,” she says firmly.  
  
Monty doesn’t believe her for a second, but she did score him one-on-one time with Miller, so he’ll let it slide for now.  
  
~~~  
  
Despite the general expectation of the Ark at large, Wells Jaha would not, in any sense of the word, describe himself as “cool.” He always got all his homework in on time when he was in school, plays chess as often as he can find an opponent, uses more of his free time than he’d want to admit reading about history and politics, and spent most of his early pubescent years trying and failing to casually initiate a romantic relationship with his best friend without her noticing until he finally grew up and fell out of love with her.  
  
But Raven Reyes. Raven Reyes is pretty much the definition of cool.  
  
Like, it’s enough to just be a zero-G mechanic. It’s more than enough to be the youngest zero-G mechanic in 52 years. If that was all Raven had going for her, Wells would probably still be ridiculously smitten. But of course she has to have a razor-sharp wit, an even sharper smile, excellent taste in old music, and a better-than-you-and-we-both-know-it vibe to tie it all together.  
  
Poor, nerdy Wells never stood a chance.  
  
He’d first heard about her from Sinclair, at some random dinner of his dad’s. He and Clarke were at one end of the table, huddled as close as they could be while still looking appropriately poised, quietly laughing and talking shit about the stuffiest of the station leaders.  
  
Sinclair was a few seats down, on the other side of Clarke’s parents, and he and Jake were telling the Chancellor about the girl that had just been accepted as a zero-G mechanic—only nineteen years old, barely out of school, and with a heart condition that had knocked her out of the running on her first attempt. But she was brilliant, Jake said, so brilliant Sinclair had no choice but to overrule it.  
  
Jake had turned to Clarke and Wells. “She’s pretty, too,” he whispered, winking at his daughter, who rolled her eyes.  
  
Wells was impressed enough with the story. As the Chancellor’s son, he was used to making connections, getting to know important and accomplished people. If he wants to get elected one day—and he does, he’s pretty sure—he needs to know people. Even if he doesn’t, the Chancellor’s son needs to be friendly and outgoing. Always.  
  
More than most cases, though, he was looking forward to meeting her—someone almost his age, a girl from Mecha who probably felt as out of place amid Chancellors and council members as he somehow still did.  
  
She was, of course, invited to his dad’s next few public dinners, but he never managed to talk to her. She stuck to Sinclair’s side like glue, muttering what looked like sarcastic quips under her breath until Sinclair was struggling to keep a professional composure in place, and Wells only wanted to meet her more. Somehow, it was weeks before he managed to speak to her.  
  
It was a more formal party of the Chancellor’s, less of a dinner. Clarke had bailed on him at the last second, so Wells was bored out of his mind. The two of them were always the only people at these things under 30—until Raven Reyes.  
  
At this party, as he lurked at the edge of the throng as much as he could, avoiding the one council member whose breath always smelled terrible, the girl in question had sidled up next to him and addressed him in a sharp whisper. “Hey. Jaha.”  
  
He looked down into a pair of bright, hard eyes. “Um. Yes?”  
  
She wasted no time. “I need to drink, and getting wasted alone is pathetic,” she said. “Wanna be corrupted, Prince Jaha?” Her expression was aggressively unbothered, her tone even as anything. Even her eyes insisted disinterest, but something behind them looked enough like impending tears to stir up alarm in him.  
  
He didn’t dignify her question with a response, but he did let himself be swept away from the party, hiding away with her in his father’s office, her perched on the desk as he sits in the chair, passing a surprisingly large flask of contraband moonshine between them.  
  
After a while, Wells ventured to say, “You kind of took a chance, inviting the Chancellor’s son to drink moonshine in the Chancellor’s quarters at the Chancellor’s dinner party.”  
  
“Mm,” Raven said, taking another sip.  
  
“You didn’t think I’d get you arrested?”  
  
She handed him the flask. “I was banking on you being too intimidated to think of saying no.”  
  
“What, because you’re gorgeous?” Wells said without thinking, and immediately flushed.  
  
She scowled. “Because I’m brilliant and don’t take shit,” she corrected.  
  
“Right,” Wells mumbled, taking a sip of moonshine, nodding awkwardly. “Yeah, that’s what I meant.”  
  
They were silent for a while, calmly passing the flask back and forth, the gentle murmur of the conversations outside fading into a background roar barely louder than the omnipresent machine hum of the Ark.  
  
Somehow, impossibly, it felt like they were alone.  
  
Wells felt warm from the moonshine, just a little, just enough to be brave. “Why did you need to drink tonight?”  
  
Raven was already taking markedly larger gulps than Wells, but at this she drained whatever remained in the flask. “My boyfriend and I broke up,” she said flatly.  
  
Wells felt, immediately, like shit. He opened his mouth, not really sure what he was planning to say, when the sound of the door opening startled Raven into motion.  
  
She slipped off the desk with easy agility, dragging Wells down to the ground with her and pulling both of them under the desk in an instant.  
  
The moment stretched a thousand years. Wells didn’t think his breathing had ever been louder, and he cringed at himself. Shut up, shut up, shut up. He held his breath.  
  
He could hear movement in the room outside—probably his dad, coming in to grab something, or to get away from the crowd for thirty seconds. It didn’t really matter why, just as long as he didn’t come over to his desk.  
  
He didn’t.  
  
When he left, finally, Raven let out a startled giggle. It didn’t match any aspect of her that Wells had seen thus far.  
  
“Damn,” she says. “I am way too drunk for this.”  
  
They crawled out from under the desk and leaned against the bookshelf. The flask disappeared back into Raven’s outfit, somewhere, and they were quiet for a while.  
  
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Wells asked after a while.  
  
“Nope.”  
  
He nodded. “Do you like music?” he tried.  
  
Even without looking at her he knew she was rolling her eyes. “Obviously.”  
  
Wells reached into one of his dad’s drawers and pulled out an old music player and headphones. He passed one earbud to her and stuck the other in his ear. He passed the device over. “Pick whatever you want.”  
  
It would have been a nice moment no matter what she ended up picking, so of course she scrolls for a few minutes before selecting his favorite song in the entire universe. It was old even by Grounder standards, old enough that most of his friends didn’t know it or didn’t like it if they did. He was instantly barraged with images of his mom, leaning over him as he struggled, too filled with anxieties, to fall asleep, shushing him gently and singing along to this song. He swallowed hard.  
  
“This is my favorite song,” Raven said, so softly it was almost a dream, and his heart lurched. He didn’t know how to respond, so they sat in silence until the song ended.  
  
After that they listened to equally obscure but less emotional works, gradually starting to joke and laugh, finding their tastes almost comically aligned in most of their choices. Finally they had to sneak back out to the party, but she slipped away from him with a bigger smile than he knew what to do with.  
  
Then the spell was broken.  
  
They’ve spoken since then, just a little bit. She sits sort of near him at the occasional dinner party, makes brief but polite conversation when they run into each other out in public. She smirks at him a lot from across the table, makes faces whenever people like Diana Sidney make dumbass comments. During his dad’s events, he always feels like they’re allies. Outside them, she doesn’t seem to trust him.  
  
It seems to Wells that Raven is uninterested in acknowledging that their moment at the party ever happened, so he contents himself to do the same. He doesn’t even tell Clarke. Of course, Clarke is his best friend, so she very quickly notices him noticing Raven Reyes. And because she’s Clarke, she makes a plan.  
  
She’s quiet about it at first, Wells guesses. It comes out so fully formed he doesn’t believe it just occurred to her. She just knew better than to freak him out by making him aware of her idea too early.  
  
He doesn’t even notice that she’s the one to bring it up.  
  
“How was your dad’s party last night?” she asks, the day after what Wells is thinking of as The Incident. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come. Did you have to hang out with my mom?”  
  
Wells rolls his eyes. “Somehow, it didn’t come to that.” He hesitates. “But, um. Raven was there?”  
  
Clarke’s eyes narrow. “Was that a question?”  
  
“No,” he says, too sharply. “We talked some. She’s…cool,” he says. “Have you talked to her much?”  
  
“Yeah,” Clarke says. She totally knows that he’s totally gone. He can see it in her smirk. “My parents are having her over for dinner like three nights a week,” Clarke says. “If they keep it up they’re going to have to start making second-child payments.”  
  
Wells snorts.  
  
It’s not until a few weeks later that Clarke says what Wells thinks might be the most terrifying words in the English language. At least, when they come out of Clarke’s mouth.  
  
“I have an idea.”  
  
~~~  
  
Nathan Miller had always existed somewhere in the periphery of Monty’s consciousness. He was only a year older than Monty, so they’d had some shared classes before Miller graduated and went into Guard training. Plus, Miller had directed the upper school play last year, while Monty and Jasper had done tech. Miller was terrifyingly stoic when he wanted to be, and near violently sarcastic the rest of the time. He was a ruthless dictator when it came to theater, and all of these were somehow qualities that matched Monty’s taste in guys.  
  
Not that he—Monty was absolutely not smitten with Miller back then, because Miller had been dating Bryan Taylor pretty seriously, and Monty had been stumbling through a vaguely awkward attempt at flirting and casual dates with Harper that had fizzled back into friendship just about as soon as it started. And then Miller and Bryan broke up, later.  
  
After Miller left school, he essentially exited Monty’s life without any fanfare. It wasn’t like they were exactly friends, or anything. They were casual acquaintances and then they weren’t, really.  
  
His reentry into Monty’s life was a bit more exciting.  
  
Making excellent moonshine isn’t something Monty is proud of, per se. It’s not like it’s a skill that will officially get him a job or a lot of money or recognition from society at large. But it’s always fun to see the grimace on a new friend’s face the first time they take an unexpecting swig of the innocuous-looking liquid.  
  
Clarke was the best—she’d gagged for a second but refused to admit it happened, so she’d spent the next six months making increasingly stupid decisions regarding drinking games to prove herself a badass, or something. Jasper still makes it a point to mimic her disgruntled exclamation that first night—“I can be fun!”—every time she seems to be putting a little too much enthusiasm into proving it.  
  
In any case, Monty’s moonshine was never public knowledge, but if you knew the right person at school to ask, they could usually get you the information you needed to strike a deal. Monty assumes that’s how Miller learned the moonshine existed, even if he didn’t go through the quasi-official channels to procure it.  
  
Instead, he tried to steal it.  
  
It was during that cool part of the morning, the artificial weather control shooting a damp breeze across the field. Monty knew that, but he couldn’t feel it from within the greenhouse, where he and Jasper were—well, it didn’t matter what they were doing, exactly. Suffice it to say it involved some stolen plants, a smoky greenhouse, and questionable life choices. They’d cut out the hobby a few months later, after a close escape from getting caught and the realization that even if people didn’t get floated for stupid shit all the time, spending who knows how long in the Skybox still sounded like it would suck.  
  
Anyway, on this specific day, Jasper was laughing hysterically because he realized he had goggles on his head—which, like, he always had goggles on his head, but he wasn’t exactly all there at the moment. Monty, for his part, was thinking about that cool breeze. As Jasper laughed, tears streaming down his face, Monty wandered outside, sighing and closing his eyes as the air gently pushed sweaty hair off his forehead.  
  
He wasn’t that buzzed—nowhere close to Jasper—so when he opened his eyes he immediately saw the figure leaning over the abandoned, sideways barrel where he stored his moonshine.  
  
Honestly, identifying himself as the owner of the aggressively illegal substance was a stupid move, but it was instinct that had him calling out, “Hey!”  
  
The figure jerked into a standing position, startled, but apparently had the presence of mind not to turn his face toward Monty. The guy hesitated a moment, like he was figuring out a plan, and then in a flash he ran off, still careful not to let Monty see his face.  
  
Not that it mattered. Monty recognized the guy’s beanie. It had been a while since he’d seen it, but geez, Miller had worn the damn thing every day for like, three years of upper school.  
  
It was a little surreal, honestly, immediately knowing that the guy he had halfheartedly chased away from his secret moonshine stash was Nathan Miller. One of the so-called Ark Royalty. Guard cadet, son of the Head Guard. Monty’s not-quite-a-crush.  
  
Honestly, Monty probably should have been more concerned about the whole thing. But he kind of just went back into the greenhouse, content that his stash was safe, and didn’t give it a whole lot more thought. He thought about confronting Miller, not out of any anger or fear of discovery, just curiosity. But it had been months since they’d talked even casually, and they’d never really been friends. So he just let it drop.  
  
Even if he started thinking about Miller a little more often—just…remembering. The way he’d smile, when Bryan would show up to say hi during rehearsals of the play. The way he’d smirk, mocking, when someone said something stupid, eyes flicking to Monty like he knew it was a joke they could share between the two of them. The sarcastic edge in his voice basically always.  
  
It was never going to be a thing. He was planning to fall back into casually, quietly pining after Miller in an unobtrusive, non-issue way.  
  
But then Clarke Griffin happened.  
  
It’s not Monty’s fault that the two of them grew up next door to each other, both parts of the aforementioned Ark Royalty. It’s not Monty’s fault that he became friends with Clarke after she helped Jasper recover from a stupid bad trip and didn’t report them for being idiots. And it’s not Monty’s fault that he and Clarke accidentally ran into stupid beautiful Nathan Miller on their way to Clarke’s place and that Monty had blushed and stammered through a minimal conversation through him while Clarke’s smile slowly grew bigger and bigger.  
  
There was no chance of avoiding Clarke’s plans after that. She was just too…Clarke.  
  
But now…well, Monty is absolutely terrified of what is to come, but at least he’ll get five minutes of one-on-one time with Miller before he pukes on the other boy out of terror and has to figure out a way to get put in lockup just to avoid contact with any other human ever.  
  
~~~  
  
The thing is, Clarke didn’t warn him.  
  
That’s the real issue here. Wells is totally chill, usually. And even when he isn’t, it just takes a little bit of a head’s up to get him to a place where he can really convincingly pretend to be chill. Just, like, written notice 24 hours prior to the event. That’s all he needs.  
  
Clarke knows this about him. But she still invited him over for dinner on a random Thursday night like she’d done a thousand times, and gave away absolutely nothing through an afternoon watching old soccer games. She gave away nothing right up until they were finishing setting up food on the table in expectation of Jake and Abby’s return and the former walked in with Raven Reyes at his side.  
  
Wells’ gaze snaps to Clarke, and she’s barely, barely smiling. “Oh, for the love of…” he mumbles, and Clarke laughs, bright.  
  
He looks at Raven, and she quirks a brow at him. “Hey, Jaha,” she says, plopping into the chair across from the one he’s standing behind.  
  
It’s stupidly easy to smile back and say, “Hi, Reyes.”  
  
She wrinkles her nose at him. “It doesn’t work when you do it,” she says, and he laughs.  
  
Instantly he’s at ease. No waiting period needed. He’s just there.  
  
He settles down into his chair and honestly doesn’t even notice when Abby gets home until suddenly she’s sitting at the table asking him to pass something and he looks down and realizes he has a plate of food in front of him that he’s apparently been eating as he talks to Raven.  
  
He might be in a little deep.  
  
He feels someone kick his leg under the table and immediately turns to glare at Clarke. But she’s bickering with her mother about the newest guard in the medical bay—“He’s so old, Mom, we’re going to have to treat him for a broken hip or heart failure or something one of these days, I’m positive, and then who’s going to protect us?”—and, well, she’s not that good an actress. He turns to Raven, and she smirks at him.  
  
“That hurt,” he says good-naturedly, and she shrugs.  
  
“You looked dazed.”  
  
With that, she turns away from him. “Hey, Jake, did you see Kyle Wick’s blueprints today? They were pathetic. What kind of engineers are you growing these days?”  
  
Jake laughs and playfully snipes back at her, and Wells starts trying to actually taste his food, spared momentarily from the ball of light that is Raven Reyes.  
  
After dinner, he and Raven and Clarke watch an old vid in the common room, where Clarke immediately calls dibs on the single armchair because “It’s comfier and I live here,” fooling absolutely no one as the other two choose a respectful distance from each other on the couch.  
  
When curfew is coming up and it’s time for Raven and Wells to head out, though, Clarke barely sees them to the door before leaving them alone. Since they’re already in Alpha, a few minutes from the Chancellor’s quarters, it’s not long before they have to part ways to get to their respective homes.  
  
“Well,” Wells says. “Guess I’ll see you around.”  
  
“Yeah,” Raven says. She pinches his arm, awkward. “We should do this again sometime.”  
  
His heart leaps. “Mooch off the Griffins?” he teases.  
  
Raven shrugs. “Doesn’t have to be the Griffins specifically,” she says. “I’m not picky when it comes to free food.”  
  
Wells laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says.  
  
“I’ll see you later, Jaha,” she says, turning and walking away.  
  
He waits until she’s around the corner before he yells, “Night, Reyes!” and is rewarded by her halfhearted groan.  
  
~~~  
  
Clarke is really good at being a wingman.  
  
Wells might technically be better than her at chess, but she is, she flatters herself to believe, still better than the average person at strategy. It takes a special sort of person to use some of the pieces in your puzzle to help you fit the others into place.  
  
Thus, Clarke is standing in engineering, hanging out with Raven Reyes as the other girl is on her lunch break. Not that—Clarke does genuinely like Raven, and she’s very glad to have her as a friend. This is just…a bonus. A public service, really.  
  
“I’m trying to help Monty spend time with the guy he likes,” Clarke says as she’s heading out so Raven can get back to work. “So I was thinking we should have a game night—casual, fun, high-energy, something Monty has a vested interest in and looks cute doing. And the more people the better. Are you in?”  
  
“I’m definitely in,” Raven says without hesitation. “Who does Monty like? Give me the details, I hate not knowing things.”  
  
Clarke laughs. “He’s been in some serious denial. It’s Nathan Miller. Do you know him? Guard cadet, he was my year in school—”  
  
“Yeah, I know Miller,” Raven says. “We get drunk with Blake sometimes. Well, I get drunk. Miller takes a shit-ton more alcohol than me to get anywhere and Blake is a mom who’s too worried about me getting home safe to let loose himself.”  
  
Clarke bites back on a smile at the thought of Bellamy Blake mom-ing his friends while tipsy. Ugh. She pushes her way back into her priorities.  
  
“So anyway, game night.”  
  
“Yes,” Raven says. “Do you want to do it in my quarters again?”  
  
“That would be great,” Clarke admits. “Everyone else still lives with parents.”  
  
“The joys of having a deadbeat mother,” Raven deadpans.  
  
Clarke knows better to than to respond with anything but a smile. She starts counting on her fingers. “Okay, so, that’s you and me, Monty, Miller, Jasper, and Wells. That’s a solid group.”  
  
Raven narrows her eyes at Clarke, considering. Finally, she says, “You should invite Blake. He’s Miller’s best friend. It’ll loosen him up.”  
  
Clarke’s face feels a little warm, but it stays straight as she says, “Sure. The more the merrier, right? You can ask him if you want.”  
  
The other girl smirks like she knows something, but Clarke is sure she has no idea what it could be. “Nah, you’ve got it. I’m so busy at work lately I barely see him, and he’s stationed in Alpha these days, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Clarke says, and now she thinks her cheeks might actually be red. Shit. “Yeah, no problem.”  
  
So that’s how she ends up not-exactly-but-sort-of-stalking Bellamy Blake and pretending to casually bump into him as he leaves the Alpha mess hall at lunchtime. She’s aware she’s pathetic. She just doesn’t think about it more often than she has to.  
  
“Hey,” he says, face brightening at the sight of her.  
  
Dammit, he’s cute.  
  
“Hey!” she says, pitched too high. “Hey,” she repeats, trying to sound more collected. “I was actually hoping to run into you.”  
  
His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “Oh?” he says, looking mildly terrified.  
  
“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, um—” She feels like an idiot, so she finally bursts out, “Raven and I are setting up a game night with a bunch of people tomorrow night, and we thought maybe you’d want to come.”  
  
Bellamy blinks. Clarke takes a deep breath.  
  
There. She asked him. She did the hard part. And she knows, really, of course she knows he’ll say—  
  
“I can’t,” he says.  
  
“Oh,” Clarke says. “Oh, um, yeah, that’s—” She can tell she’s blushing again, and she starts leaning away from him. She is going to be humiliated until the end of time, probably.  
  
Bellamy must notice this, because he looks panicked. “Not—it’s not that I don’t, um. I’d like to. It’s, uh.” He shifts his weight a little, glances away from her. “Octavia,” he finally says.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
It’s not that Clarke forgets, exactly, that Bellamy has a sister. Though she doesn’t have that many comparison points, it seems to her it’s a major part of his personality, the fact that he’s a big brother. He’s grumpy but aggressively helpful, always lecturing but always taking care of people—Mom Bellamy, like Raven said. You have to be like that, Clarke figures, to basically raise a child while you’re still one yourself.  
  
Second children aren’t illegal—not like they were in the past, when the Ark was terrified of running out of food and running out of oxygen and running out of space. But it wasn’t that long ago that they were, and stigma isn’t as easy to erase as a law, which took long enough to change.  
  
So Bellamy’s mother wasn’t floated, the way she would have been if Octavia was born ten years earlier, but she was judged mercilessly, by her friends, by her neighbors, by people who didn’t even know her. The law that replaced the single-child rule mandated certain fines, the idea being that parents ought to compensate for the additional strain on the Ark’s resources. Aurora was one of the first mothers to openly have a second child, and she was the very first from Factory station, as well as the first to do it without a husband by her side.  
  
Nothing official said, in so many words, that it was the strain of the fines that necessitated Aurora’s habit of giving her own rations to her children. Nothing could retroactively confirm that it was the lack of proper nutrition that let her get so sick. It wasn’t a sure fact that the lack of accessible medical care for a lower-class mother of two that resulted in her death. No one could prove that the societal pressures made it all worse. Nothing put tangible blame on the Ark’s governing body. Nobody floated her. But Aurora still died.  
  
The whole system is, in Clarke’s opinion, a load of bullshit.  
  
“Yeah,” Bellamy says. “It’s, um—I don’t get a lot of nights off? So tomorrow’s our night to hang out. We try to make a point of it every now and then.”  
  
Clarke nods. “I completely understand.” She takes a beat. Smiles. “You should bring her. I mean, if you want to, and you think it’s something she’d like to do.”  
  
Bellamy looks—Clarke isn’t really sure how he looks. The best word that comes to mind is flabbergasted.  
  
“Really?” he says.  
  
“Yeah,” Clarke shrugs. “Absolutely. I’d love to meet her. And it’ll hopefully be a fun time,” she adds, grinning nervously.  
  
There’s something new in Bellamy’s eyes, something terrifyingly deep and soft.  
  
“That would be great,” he says. “I think she’d really like that. Thanks, princess.”  
  
The moment is far too charged for Clarke to deal with right now, so she takes a quick step back, chirps, “Sounds great! See you at eight!” and rushes off before she has to deal with anything as horrifying as her own emotions.  
  
But she smiles as she hurries back to her room. Tomorrow night is shaping up to be really, really good.  
  
~~~  
  
Monty and Miller have had three tutoring sessions so far, and if Monty wasn’t half in love with the other boy already, he is now. Passion is engaging, and somehow Miller really, really likes Shakespeare.  
  
Plus, those eyelashes. Monty spends a lot of time in his tutoring sessions trying not to get distracted by Miller’s eyelashes. But he’s only human, and today he’s distracted before they even start talking about Macbeth.  
  
Miller must not have gotten a lot of sleep the night before, because he keeps rubbing at his eyes, drawing more and more attention to his impossibly long, incredibly dark lashes. When Monty sits down across from him, he looks up and smiles. “Hey.”  
  
Monty literally could not care less about Shakespeare.  
  
“Where did we leave off last time?” Miller asks, after Monty recovers his voice and they exchange the usual sorts of pleasantries. “Oh, right—Lady Macbeth is crazy.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Monty says. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. She does terrible things, yeah, but…maybe she thought it was for the right reasons. She prioritized her husband, her people, over other groups.”  
  
Miller considers him. “But she’s also kinda just vicious and powerhungry.”  
  
Monty laughs. “Yeah. Also that. But after the fact—with that guilt—the uncleanable blood on her hands. That’s chilling. She’s probably kind of evil, but I wouldn’t wish that kind of psychological torment on anyone.”  
  
The other boy smiles softly. “I think you’re a much nicer person than I am. My critical analysis of Lady Macbeth usually concludes ‘psycho bitch.’”  
  
“Yeah, forget ‘nice guys finish last,’” Monty smirks. “Nice guys murder the enemies of their people and anyone who gets in the way of their goals.”  
  
Miller shrugs. “I give you more credit than I do Lady Macbeth. I think anybody you murdered you’d murder for exclusively the right reasons,” he says. He smiles, gratified, when Monty bursts out laughing.  
  
“Thanks for the confidence,” Monty says.  
  
The rest of the session goes something like that, Monty trying his hardest to be cute and clever while also trying to learn at least a little bit of actual information about the play. Too soon Miller glances at the time and starts packing up to head to a shift.  
  
Monty swallows. “So, um, a friend of mine—Raven Reyes, do you know her?”  
  
Miller nods. “Yeah, we’ve met,” he says.  
  
“She’s having this little—well, really it’s Clarke, you know Clarke—they thought it would be fun to have a game night, have a bunch of people over to Raven’s place to play card games and hang out. Would you, uh, wanna come, maybe?”  
  
For a moment, Miller just looks at him, and Monty’s heart races. He’s usually pretty good at reading Miller’s expressions, but this one is not really clicking. Certainly he isn’t mad at Monty for asking him to hang out, right?  
  
Finally, he smiles, just a little bit. “That, uh. That sounds cool. Sure.”  
  
Probably, Monty thinks, there probably aren’t actually fireworks going off in Alpha library. But it really, really seems like there are.  
  
“Cool,” Monty echoes, trying to tamp down on the ridiculous grin he feels spreading across his face. “Cool, sounds good.”  
  
Miller stands up and slings his bag over his shoulder. “It really does,” he says.  
  
~~~  
  
Wells has been in a lot of stressful, high-pressure situations. He’s a politician’s kid, he’s been dealing with people and problems and various kinds of bullshit since before he can remember. A lot of it doesn’t even faze him anymore.  
  
But he is absolutely terrified to be standing in front of Raven’s quarters, trying to figure out how to get from the corridor to the couch.  
  
He thinks about Raven’s smile, and Clarke’s enthusiastic encouragement, and that unbelievable, unachievable peace he felt listening to his mother’s favorite song with Raven pressed into his side.  
  
He takes a deep breath and knocks. There’s muffled laughter from inside, followed by footsteps padding towards him. The door swings open, and there stands Raven Reyes. Behind her he can see Clarke on the couch with Monty’s feet in her lap, flipping off Bellamy, who’s sitting on the floor next to a dark-haired girl Wells doesn’t know—Bellamy’s sister, Wells assumes. Octavia. Monty’s friend Jasper is precariously perched on the arm of a chair talking to her, and Wells estimates he’s about fourteen seconds away from striking out.  
  
Raven smirks. “Well, if it isn’t the prince himself. Clarke said you were coming, but I didn’t really believe I’d see you slumming it here with us.”  
  
Wells isn’t really sure how to answer that. “Clarke’s here,” he ventures. “We’re from the same station. You could say the same about her.”  
  
“Nah,” Raven says. “Princess has proven herself. She’s one of us.”  
  
Clarke rolls her eyes, but her cheeks go pink and she looks pleased at the remark. Wells watches her glance at Bellamy, sees him shrug as if to say he can’t argue with that.  
  
Heart racing in his chest, Wells says, “I can’t have people thinking Clarke is cooler than me. What have I got to do to catch up?”  
  
Raven breaks into one of her most generous smiles, brighter than a supernova and sweeter than anything Wells has ever tasted in the Ark’s rations.  
  
Before she has a chance to answer him, though, Monty cries out “Moonshine!” and promptly tumbles off the couch in his enthusiasm. Jasper is so startled by this that he falls off his chair, and Octavia laughs uproariously.  
  
Clarke and Raven heckle Monty as he picks himself back off the floor good-naturedly, and pretty soon everyone is settling into a circle on the floor, jockeying for position and fighting over who gets to lean against the couch or sit on a pillow.  
  
Nathan Miller arrives a little while after Wells, and Wells sees Clarke scoot away from Monty to make room for the newcomer. Monty blushes profusely when Miller greets him, and Wells looks back at Clarke’s satisfied smile.  
  
Ah, he thinks. She’s playing a complicated game.  
  
From there, it’s easy to see how the room divides up—Jasper and Octavia, now aggressively established as platonic friends but terrifyingly well suited to each other in terms of pure bubbliness and energy; Monty and Miller, frequently falling into quiet side conversations in which the latter smiles more often and brighter than Wells has ever seen him; Raven and Wells, teaming up for the games, making faces at each other from across the circle; and of course Bellamy and Clarke, fiercely competitive and absolutely crushing everyone else in the process of trying to A) beat each other and B) seem like they’re not stupidly into each other. Which they clearly are.  
  
Despite Monty’s bright idea, they don’t actually drink—Wells isn’t actually sure if Miller is into it, and Bellamy’s clearly overprotective of Octavia, so Wells isn’t convinced he’d’ve gone for it either. Still, it’s a fun time, and Monty has brought several decks of cards and a lot of knowledge of old-timey games that no one else has heard of.  
  
“I swear you made this up!” Octavia squeals, snatching her hand back and shaking out the ache of having had it slapped by Raven. “You just want to watch us kill each other,” she accuses, shooting Monty a look.  
  
Monty throws both his hands up in denial. “I could never invent the beauty that is Egyptian Rat Screw,” he says solemnly. “I warned you there might be casualties. It hurts like a bitch,” he adds, wincing as Octavia hits his hand with a little extra force.  
  
“Baby,” Clarke says, and Monty sticks his tongue out at her.  
  
Wells can’t help it; he glances at Miller. The other boy is smiling softly, the change in expression small enough it has plausible deniability if anyone were to call it out.  
  
But Clarke has totally ruined Wells—he can tell it’s more than casual interest.  
  
Which means he thinks he can also see a lot in the way that Raven is looking at him.  
  
~~~  
  
Monty is having a really great night.  
  
He really, really likes Clarke, and he’s really glad they became friends, and he likes Bellamy a lot and Raven and Jasper and of course Jasper Jasper’s his best friend and he’s really glad Miller is here and warm and leaning up against him as he reaches for his cards and okay maybe Monty pregamed this event a little but he was nervous, so whatever.  
  
He’s a little over-excitable, but it really is a great night.  
  
Monty was one of the first people to arrive and so he was one of the only people who saw Clarke pretending very hard that she wasn’t dramatically overinvested in the way things went down when Bellamy and his sister arrived.  
  
Of course, she’s Clarke, so she was terrifyingly prepared with witty banter and a bright smile as she shook hands with the younger girl in a way that somehow didn’t seem stilted and awkward, and honestly, she probably would’ve gotten away with looking super chill if she hadn’t looked too long at Bellamy smiling down at the two of them and blushed profusely.  
  
From there, things sort of happened in snapshots.  
  
Bellamy and Clarke started bickering about something completely inconsequential. Monty started shuffling decks of cards while Raven grabbed drinks for everyone. Wells showed up and he and Raven did a very bad impression of people who weren’t flirting with each other. Jasper tried to hit on Bellamy’s sister for like, five seconds before she very nicely but very firmly shot him down in a blur of big blue eyes and blinding smile.  
  
And then there was a knock on the door, and Raven went to answer it, and it was Miller.  
  
Monty goes cold all over, but then he’s warm. The other boy settles in next to him in the circle, and his smile is soft enough that Monty isn’t even upset at how obvious Clarke was about moving over for him.  
  
The night is just. Really great. Monty gets to show off his amazing shuffling skills, honed by absolute years of practice, and Miller bumps his shoulder and teases him about his dedication. He gets to play all his favorite card games and see Octavia’s absolute delight at learning them all, and watch Bellamy and Clarke drift slowly closer together as the evening goes on. Clarke’s not the only one rooting for certain relationships to happen.  
  
All things considered, it’s probably one of the better nights of Monty’s life. He knows he’s sappy, but somehow he has almost all the people he loves in one room, laughing and joking and he’s a little drunk and so happy to live in a universe of peace and light and joy.  
  
Miller is the first to leave, though he seems reluctant. “Curfew is coming up,” he says by way of explanation, glancing at Monty. “My dad is Head Guard,” he adds, like they don’t all know that. “He’s kind of a stickler about it, shockingly.”  
  
“Yeah, we should probably get going, too,” Bellamy says, and Octavia groans.  
  
“One night of socializing in seventeen years and we’re going home before curfew,” she says, letting Jasper help her up. “You’re such a grandma, Bell.”  
  
Clarke’s laughter expresses her delight at Octavia’s entire existence, and Bellamy ruffles his sister’s hair.  
  
Miller raises sarcastic eyebrows in Monty’s direction, and Monty smiles. Miller hugs Monty goodbye, somehow making it seem offhand and casual, and Monty’s heart stops.  
  
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Miller says, and Monty nods.  
  
“Yeah,” he says. “See you later.”  
  
Miller smiles, and Monty hopes he’ll get to say that many, many more times.  
  
~~~  
  
Everyone else is gone.  
  
Wells is alone with Raven Reyes, in her quarters, and there’s an endless, thick silence between them. He knows, he knows he should be able to…do something. Say something.  
  
He stays still.  
  
Raven is stretched out on the couch, eyes half closed. She lets her hair out of its ponytail and braids, running her fingers through it. His breath catches, and he doesn’t think she should be able to hear it, but she smiles.  
  
“Do you want to go for a walk?” he blurts.  
  
She opens her eyes, sits up. She eyeballs him. “A little late, isn’t it?”  
  
He can feel the heat flooding into his cheeks, but he keeps his gaze firm. “Yeah,” he says. “It is.”  
  
She doesn’t answer right away. She smooths her hair down across her shoulders, thoughtful. Then she stands. With a smirk, she grabs his hand and squeezes. “Guess I corrupted you after all, Prince Jaha,” she says, pulling him out the door and down the corridor.  
  
Wells feels like he should know where they’re going, since he was the one who started the whole thing, but he just starts walking. Aimless.  
  
Well, aimless as far as direction goes. He can’t deny he has hopes for where this night might be going.  
  
They don’t talk for a while. Wells can’t deny that he’s a little anxious about what to do. But on a deeper level…something about her makes him calm.  
  
After a while wandering, chatting about nothing, they end up at one of the viewing stations, the huge window boasting a breathtaking view of millions of stars. Wells has never gotten used to the sight, never known how to take it for granted. They’re hurtling through space in a tin can—life feels so fragile. The Ark feels so small, against the stars.  
  
They sit against the wall, facing the window. Wells doesn’t dare to break the silence, and the moment stretches.  
  
“I wish we had music,” Raven says, and Wells freezes. He can’t help thinking of her warmth pressed against him in his dad’s office, a pair of headphones shared between them, a moment of connection amid the chaos.  
  
He doesn’t answer.  
  
“Like the party,” she presses, carefully light. She looks at him. “Remember?”  
  
Wells forces a smile. Nods.  
  
Raven sighs. Shifts. “I know I can be a dick,” she says.  
  
He knows better than to answer, but his lips quirk up in the hint of a smile.  
  
Another sigh from the girl beside him. She turns entirely, faces him dead on. He can’t avoid her eyes. “You asked me—” She breaks off. Tries again. “You asked me if I wanted to talk about it. I didn’t. But I do now.” She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Is that okay?”  
  
Wells feels like he’s watching from the other side of the room as he takes her hand.  
  
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, of course.”  
  
She doesn’t beat around the bush.  
  
“We grew up together. Me and him. Next door neighbors, met when I was…I dunno, six. I don’t think I have a single childhood memory that is even close to positive that doesn’t include Finn. He would let me come over when my mom was drunk, or in a bad mood because she wasn’t drunk. He’d sneak me rations when I didn’t have anything to eat.” She smiles wryly. “Which was...often. He would tell me stories and make me little trinkets and hold my hand when I was afraid. He was my best friend.”  
  
Wells can sense that he isn’t supposed to respond.  
  
“We started dating when I was fifteen. It felt natural—like it was what was supposed to happen. I didn’t have a choice but to fall in love with him. Or at least, I felt like I didn’t. I was always smart, but.” She shrugs. “I’m smarter now.”  
  
She takes a breath, and Wells squeezes her hand.  
  
“Sometime last year, I, uh. I could feel him losing interest in me. I was busy with work, and he was still stuck in school and bitter about it. I couldn’t see him as much, and he was bitter about it. Some engineer was flirting with me all the time, and I told Finn because I thought he’d find it funny, but it just made him annoyed. And after a while annoyed with my busy schedule and my obnoxious coworkers became annoyed with me. And I put it off as long as I could, but I felt it. I wasn’t the amazing girl he’d fallen in love with anymore. I was the same boring girl he’d always been with, the older model. I think in his eyes, I stopped being me.”  
  
Wells took a breath. “Raven, you’re—”  
  
“I know, I know,” she cuts him off, smile brightening briefly. “I’m awesome.”  
  
He smiles back, but his brow is still furrowed.  
  
“So,” Raven says on a sigh, “I confronted him. And he dumped me. Started talking to another girl two days later. The day of the party.”  
  
“Shit,” Wells says.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“What an asshole.”  
  
Raven laughs again, but it sounds like she’s a little teary. “Yeah,” she says again.  
  
They’re quiet for a while, and eventually Raven stands up. “Walk me home?” she asks, and Wells nods.  
  
Conversation is lighter as they head back to Mecha, and Raven twines her hand in Wells’.  
  
When they reach her door, she looks at him, tilts her head, doesn’t say anything.  
  
“Thanks for telling me,” he says. “I know that couldn’t be easy.”  
  
She smiles. “Yeah. I could definitely use a drink after that.”  
  
Wells takes a breath. “I happen to know a guy who makes some pretty great moonshine,” he says. “Maybe tomorrow I can see about grabbing a flask and a music player, and tomorrow night we could drink away our problems again?”  
  
Raven’s face breaks out into a huge smile. “That was almost smooth, Wells Jaha,” she says, sounding surprised.  
  
“Almost?” Wells feels slightly offended. Then he shrugs. “Yeah, I’ll take it.”  
  
Raven laughs, and the sound is all he needs to hear. He grabs her face between his hands and pulls her into a kiss.  
  
She’s startled at first, eyebrows shooting up, but she relaxes in an instant, grabbing his waist and pulling him closer to her. Wells grins against her mouth.  
  
“I know that Princess set this up,” Raven says. “But I can’t seem to be mad about it.”  
  
Wells is still smiling. He’s not quite sure he’ll ever be able to stop. “So is that a yes?” he asks.  
  
She pinches his stomach, and he laughs and grabs her hand. Their fingers tangle together. Wells kind of can’t believe this is happening, but he also can’t imagine being anywhere else.  
  
“That’s a yes, you nerd,” she says.  
  
~~~  
  
After the game night, Monty can’t seem to stop smiling. It’s just, he can’t believe how well his life is going. Not only did he get to spend time with Miller outside of a tutoring context, but he felt…utterly bewildered by the sense that Miller might be just as interested in him as vice versa.  
  
Jasper has been teasing him mercilessly, and Monty doesn’t even mind, much.  
  
“Octavia Blake,” is all he says, and Jasper flushes, but at least he shuts up. Briefly.  
  
The problem is, the game night is just a few days before Monty’s Shakespeare test. Which means he’s out of excuses to see the other boy. And tutoring had been so effective. He’d felt a little bad about the deception, at first, but. Well, he really was struggling with Shakespeare, and Miller really is good at talking about it.  
  
And that smile. Those eyelashes.  
  
It’s definitely a disappointment, when time is up on the last day before the test and Monty has to leave to meet Jasper. It feels like he should be able to stretch this into something bigger, something real, but he doesn’t know how.  
  
“So,” he says, and then he’s stuck again.  
  
“So,” Miller says. He looks like, maybe, he might be stuck too.  
  
It’s enough to make Monty hope, a little. “I really appreciate all your help,” he says, leading.  
  
Miller waves it off. “It’s no big deal,” he says.  
  
Monty shakes his head. “No, really,” he says. Feeling brave, he adds, “I could pay you back with some moonshine. If that’s something you’re into.” He tries to fix his features into a meaningful, knowing look.  
  
He’s rewarded with the sight of Miller’s face flooding with color. He ducks his head. “I…didn’t think you recognized me.”  
  
Monty laughs. “Well, I did.”  
  
“This is honestly so embarrassing. I can’t believe I failed to steal from you and you noticed. Not only am I thief, I’m a bad thief.” Miller covers his face with one hand, but he’s smiling.  
  
“Hey,” Monty says, grin bright. “You’re a great thief. I’m just very dedicated to protecting my moonshine. It’s not easy to make.”  
  
Miller looks pleased at the compliment, ridiculous as the whole thing is. “I know. That’s why I didn’t want to make my own.”  
  
The other boy shoves him playfully, and there’s silence for a moment.  
  
Miller taps his pen rapidly against the table. “You could have reported me,” he says. “If you knew it was me. I’d’ve lost my job. At the very least.”  
  
“Yes, hello, Guard?” Monty jokes. “One of your cadets tried to steal my illegal moonshine, you should probably do something about that.”  
  
The other boy rolls his eyes. “You’re smart. You’d cover it up somehow.”  
  
Monty refuses to flush at the compliment. He won’t. “Anyway,” he says, “if I had, who’d be teaching me about the life and works of the Bard?”  
  
Ridiculously, that’s what does it. That’s when Nathan Miller surges half across the table and kisses him.  
  
When he finally pulls back, Monty is gasping for breath and grinning like an idiot.  
  
“Make it moonshine and a date,” Miller says, “and I think we’ll be even.”  
  
“Seems fair,” Monty agrees, leaning in to kiss him again and making a mental note that he basically owes Clarke for the rest of his life.  
  
~~~  
  
“Have you noticed all our friends are making out with each other?”  
  
Clarke thinks she does a pretty okay job not jumping when the voice rings from behind her, completely out of nowhere. Especially considering that the voice is deep and gravelly and teasing and belongs to Bellamy Blake.  
  
She turns to him with a smile she can’t help, and he’s smirking back at her.  
  
“It may have come to my attention,” she says. “Since Wells and Raven were actually making out on my couch yesterday.”  
  
“Miller left our post yesterday to go to the bathroom and came back with a hickey,” Bellamy counters, raising his eyebrows.  
  
Clarke shakes her head. “Yeah, you still didn’t have to witness it, mine’s definitely worse.”  
  
Bellamy crosses his arms over his chest, but his smile is still growing. “This was while we were on duty, Clarke. He’s a guard. Don’t you feel unsafe wandering the sketchier parts of the Ark knowing Nathan Miller is too busy making out with his boyfriend to keep an eye out for danger?”  
  
She might have come up with a sharper retort if her mind hadn’t gotten stuck on his use of her name. Clarke. Not princess. So instead she says, “I guess I just think true love is worth the risk.”  
  
It’s supposed to come off casual and teasing, but she accidentally drops her gaze to his lips as she says it, and the air between them changes.  
  
He takes a step closer to her, and she resists the instinct to lean away. “That so?” he asks, and his voice is somehow even lower.  
  
She nods, and they both move at the same time, lips colliding carefully but with a hell of a lot of purpose. Clarke’s hands slide into his hair without her remembering the choice that got them there, and his hands slide around her back, pulling her closer.  
  
Bellamy finally breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers. “This okay?” he asks, and she laughs, pressing a kiss to his chin.  
  
“Yeah, Bellamy,” she says. “It’s great.”  
  
~~~  
  
“You guys are all gross,” Octavia says, glaring at her new friends. Monty is sprawled across the couch with Miller’s head in his lap, Raven and Wells are playfully jostling each other as they fight for the TV remote, and Bellamy and Clarke are curled up in the same armchair, looking goofily into each other’s eyes doing some kind of communication-without-words bullshit. “Get, like, seven rooms, please.”  
  
It’s ostensibly Family Movie Night, but no one except Octavia seems that interested in actually watching a movie. She’s aware she’d probably be in the same boat if she wasn’t the only person present without a significant other to cuddle and make goo-goo eyes at, but Jasper’s grounded, so she is. Without backup, she’s more than prepared to be the resident Bitter Killjoy. Well, the kind of Bitter Killjoy that does have a secret soft happiness for the joy that now seems to radiate through her big brother and his friends.  
  
Love is kind of obnoxious, she thinks, but it seems kind of nice, too. She wouldn’t mind giving it a try someday.  
  
But today is not that day, so she throws a pillow at Bellamy’s head, snatches the remote out of Raven’s hand, shoves Miller’s shoulder until he sits up, and settles onto the couch in between Monty and Miller.  
  
“Now,” she says. “We are going to watch a movie as a family, and we are going to have a wonderful time.”  
  
“Sir yes sir,” Monty says, and Clarke shoots her a salute from Bellamy’s lap.  
  
Octavia rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. She likes having a family.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to make some sort of worldbuilding reference to the use of the word “grounding” in the context of limiting a dependent’s actions and movements within a space-locked Ark society. But alas, it did not fit organically into a one-off sentence explaining Jasper’s absence.
> 
> Also, the timeline here makes no sense. Whatever. 
> 
> Come hang out on [tumblr](http://thebluestgansey.tumblr.com)!!!


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